


The Cookie Of His Choice

by redcurlzbychoice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Bit of a Bastard Aziraphale, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Day 18: Cookies, Definitely Not Asexual Relationship, Dessert & Sweets, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcurlzbychoice/pseuds/redcurlzbychoice
Summary: „C‘mon, Angel, it can’t be that hard to make up your mind! Just choose the cookie you really want and let‘s go! Coffee‘s getting cold, y‘know,“ Crowley grumbles, but Aziraphale bops from the right of the display to the left and back again.„Oh, dear, now look at these with the rose petals in the icing. Don’t they look scrumptious! And the ones with three kinds of chocolate, ...oh, there are some with different nuts, too, ... and apples’n’spices, and ...“„ANGEL! ‘m waiting for you! Feels like I‘ve been waiting for aeons by now. Just make up your mind, will y‘, please?!“—-—-—-—-—‚La Cookiracha‘ offers more than 30 different kinds of - surprise! - cookies.Crowley wants Aziraphale to make his choice. Which of all the sweets offered in the cafe will be the one?—-—-—-—-—-—Rated „Mature“, although most movies use more swearwords nowadays and whatever your vivid fantasy makes out of a couple of hints is up to your own imagination...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	The Cookie Of His Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Drawlight‘s Advent Calendar Challange. December 18th: „COOKIES“

It is by far not their first visit to the recently opened ‚La Cookiracha‘, THE place to be if you want to choose from at least 30 different kinds of -surprise!- cookies every day, and on top of that the menu offers different tarts and pies as well.

Considering all this, Crowley _really_ should not be surprised _at all_ that his Angel does encounter slight problems to determine his choice cookie of the day from the vast offerings of „Whatever your fancies are - we bring crunchy or soft happiness into your mouth and into your life!“, to make his taste buds exult with utter jubilation.

By now Aziraphale has swayed in front of the counter display for so long that even for an eternal being like Crowley it amounts to nearly infinity (though he can’t help but twist his lips into a gleeful smile, recalling that hilarious drunken discussion about the bird‘s beak and the fish stew, back then in the bookshop, when things had started to spiral towards the Apocalypse which hadn‘t happened, and at long last had brought them out here, into this cafe with a ridiculous name and - more importantly - onto their own side of the saved world).

„C‘mon, Angel, it can’t be that hard to make up your mind! Just choose the one you really want and let‘s go! Coffee‘s getting cold, y‘know,“ Crowley grumbles, but Aziraphale bops from the right of the display to the left and back again. „Oh, dear, now look at these with the rose petals in the icing. Don’t they look scrumptious! And the ones with three kinds of chocolate, ...oh, there are some with different nuts, too, ... and apples’n’spices, and ...“

„ANGEL! ‘m waiting for you! Feels like I‘ve been waiting for aeons by now. Just make up your mind, will y‘, please?!“

Crowley is getting exasperated. Not again. They‘d been here last week already, and ended up buying one of each sort of cookie to take home after what seemed hours of shilly-shally. (Crowley himself has needed no time at all to realise what he wants, as is his nature: a double dark chocolate with deep-red cranberries sprinkled on top, of course.)

„Crowley, dearest, this is no decision to rush. It needs thoughtful consideration, and ...“

„Oh, FUCK ME, Aziraphale! C’mon! How much more time do you need? I know what I want, for ages now! You surely have been around long enough yourself, to have made up your mind what you want.“

The demon swings around, pretty much on the edge, and thus he doesn’t see his Angel blushing deeply, with the pupils in his eyes dilating so wide that they nearly vanquish their lovely blue colour. Crowley also doesn’t see that Aziraphale has stopped dead in his tracks, being unexpectedly hit square in the face by the giant Caramel Apple Cookie of Knowledge.

What he hears though - or rather ceases to hear - is that Aziraphale‘s wiffle-waffle has broken off, and mildly puzzled he turns to face his Angel, expecting to be told off as usual for his choice of language (though Aziraphale should have gotten used to it by now, he still is a demon, for fuck‘s sake, and being on their own side it conveniently provides for appropriate swearwords in every situation without the need to involve any of their former employers).

„Angel?“

Crowley eyeballs the deeply reddened face, the hands frozen in midair, the now midnight blue eyes searching for his gaze, turning away, looking back again, drifting off, searching for his eyes once more, he really should be dizzy by now.

„Angel, what‘s up?“ Crowley inquires, getting worried. He’s never seen Aziraphale in a state like this, not even out on that airfield last fall.

Somehow Aziraphale’s stuttering mouth produces a few intelligible sounds.

„You‘d want ..., I ...“

„Ehm, yeah, sure, let‘s get the whole bunch again and nibble away at the bookstore, ‘s fine with me,“ Crowley concedes, completely at a loss what has caused this strange mutation in his Angel‘s demeanour.

Aziraphale takes in a deep, unnecessary breath, as if to gear himself up for ..., for... and he asks, in a faint yet resolute voice.

„No, I meant, do you really ... want me to .... _fuck you_...?“

„NNNGK??!!!“

Crowley stares, suddenly frozen too, desperately needing to bolt, but no no no nono nooooo, this is it, this is real, did Aziraphale really mean what he‘s said, what?!, _what the..._ , don’t mess this up, not again, he‘s so close now, _oh my fucking dear Satan!_ Long limbs waving about, mouth agape, and shut, spilling syllables in completely random order, and then, all at once, Crowley looks into these huge puppy-dog eyes facing him so expectantly, so - beseechingly - is this implying? Does he really? Does he _want ...? Too?_

To admit with a sigh from the deepest pit of his heart

„For ages, Angel, for ages.“

On which his Angel, this Angel he‘s been keen on to _know_ for millennia, just smiles. Well, not _just_ smiles. He lights up the whole cafe with his smile, and declares, casually (oh, he is a bastard worth knowing, indeed!)

„Very well, my dear, I should think I‘ve finally chosen the one sweet I really want.“ And he even has the audacity to add: „Now, my dear boy, what does keep us waiting? Mine or yours?“

Crowley stares. Still. Again. Stares at his Angel beaming at him, six thousand years of want and disguise and caution turned upside down. But he‘s Anthony J. Crowley after all, he can adapt, so he regains his composure swiftly like a demon out of hell.

„Ahh, Angel, not so fast!“ Now Crowley sports a mischievous grin. He makes his way quite leisurely to the till, his face curled into the biggest grin ever, orders in a very polite tone (yet with barely hidden urgency) for _everything_ they have in stock to take out, pays (later that evening the waitress will find he’s left enough tip for her to indulge in a superb romantic minibreak), and faces his eagerly awaiting Angel.

„I only thought I‘d grab a bite for you to nibble on in case you might get hungry. Eh. Sometime later. In between ... Because I‘m not planning on leaving that bedroom ...“

But he gets cut off by Aziraphale cupping his face, pulling him in and merging their lips.

„Oh, ‘k, let‘s go,“ an enlightened demon says once their lips have parted.

„Oh, Angel, ‘k, whatever pleases you,“ an eager demon says later in the upstairs bedroom of the bookstore.

„Oh, Angel!“ a pleased demon sighs (and sometimes cries) over and over, time and again utterly filled and fulfilled with his Angel‘s love, while Aziraphale has thoroughly forgotten about the cookies, because the sweet sweating demon coming undone in his arms makes his soul and body truly exult with utter jubilation, so much more than even the best cookie on earth ever could.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly idea...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed nevertheless.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments would be thoroughly appreciated! (As everyone here surely knows, they make one light up like a Christmas Tree...)
> 
> —-—-— 
> 
> Have lovely holidays everyone of you lovely people on this fandom out there!


End file.
